Ok, I know that he was performing this to benefit the victims of the earthquake in Haiti…but MY LANDS, Mr. Timberlake is quite attractive when he sings this:
(I know it’s cut off a little bit to the right there. I have no clue what to do about that, but you get the idea.)
(And my apologies to Kristin for 1) having to hear about this again and 2) for getting this song in her head. Again.)
So we just finished season 5 of Lost.
We watched the first two seasons via Netflix a long time ago, but I lost interest at the start of season three. Ross hung on for a bit but abandoned ship around the time the writer’s strike hit.
But, knowing that the show was almost over and that people were singing its praises once again, we decided to give a second chance. We’ve spent the last couple months starting from the very beginning (which I highly recommend considering all of the craziness that goes on with it).
After spending several weeks engaging in an intense study of Sawyer’s perfection the show, I’ve made several observations that I would like to share with you. Don’t worry, no spoilers here.
1. They love the “I’m pointing a gun at you and you’re pointing a gun at me and then a gun goes off but it’s neither of ours because someone out of the shot actually fired *their* gun and now you’re dead” trick.
2. When in doubt, blame Daddy.
3. Kate sucks.*
4. All conversations must begin with “Hello, _________.”
5. Just because you’re a main character does not mean you won’t die.
6. Kate still sucks.
7. They are really good at casting the younger versions of characters (ex: young Charles Widmore and old Charles Widmore)
8. What’s up with the eyeliner, Richard?
9. Hey, Kate, way to keep going with the sucking.
10. How is that damn dog still alive?**
*The character, not the actress. I think she’s adorable.
**I have nothing against dogs. He is also adorable. But really. SO MANY PEOPLE DIE, but chubby yellow lab makes it? And mysteriously remains chubby?
Most people who know me in real life and talk to me on a regular basis are probably thinking “AUGGGH, she’s going to talk about Lady Gaga again?”
Yes, yes I am.
Until a couple months ago, I really had no clue who Lady Gaga was. But somehow she managed to sneak her way into my brain and consume about 54% of my thoughts.
Guys, I think she’s a genius.
Not necessarily a musical genius (although I do love her music). Like a genius-genius.
Here’s why…
Before she was Lady Gaga, she was Stefani Germanotta and sang songs like this:
Then one day I guess, she decided that the long brown hair/long dress combo wasn’t going to stand out. So she became who she is today and makes music/video/batshit crazy spectacles like this:
And now she’s a bagagillionaire and has legions of fans (whom she calls “monsters) who’ll wear big bows in their hair to make her happy. I can never tell if she’s serious or if she’s being ironic.
Either way, she might be my hero?
I hate birds. HATE. The beaks, the feet, the TALONS. They are horrible.
There used to be this pet store in the mall near where I grew up. They let the birds just hang out on perches in the middle of the store. And they would just sit there. Staring at me. And inexplicably flapping their wings out of nowhere, making me feel like 1) they all knew something I didn’t and I best get ready cause The Rapture is about to happen or 2) they were all in cahoots, plotting how they would swarm me and peck out my eyes.
Lovely image, no?
I use this story to illustrate the absurdity of my latest obsession. I have a burning need to purchase every home accessory festooned with an avian theme. Allow me to share some of them with you…
I have no idea where they would go in my house, and I’m certain Ross would never allow them to come through the front door, but their whimsy is appealing to me.
Guys, I don’t even like tea, but I need this in my life.
Whenever I see this I want to hug it and say, “Heh-wo dere, wittle ow-ul fayce.” Hey, I never claimed to be not crazy.
I know my last post was a list. I’M SORRY I AM VERY BUSY. But I have some things to share with you, all of which you will LURRRRRV. So here you go…
My darling, dear friend and co-contributor on RVANews, Patience, has just launched a website highlighting her new work as a birth photographer. Please, please go look at it. There is nothing that will make you squeamish. It is all beautiful and wonderful and making-you-want-to-have-babies-ful.
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Ross and I recently bought a new camera because our old one (after several years of serving us well) went kaput. We’re still in the honeymoon phase with it, meaning we use it all the effing time. Which is great when you have a cute BAYBEE. Ross has taken and uploaded some great shots of JR, and he also managed to capture his most recent milestone on video. Along with some quality baby babbling.
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My friend Jenny has recently started a blog. Go give her some clicky love.
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Ever since we saw Public Enemies (which was kinda slow, pretty good, oh hello, Mr. Depp, yes I will run off with you, especially if you hold on to the Southern-ish accent) I’ve been mildly obsessed with John Dillinger. Well maybe not with him specifically, but more with the era and the whole “glamourized criminal” type thing. Particularly the nicknames people had: Baby Face Nelson, Pretty Boy Floyd, guys who were called “Red.” I’ve decided that if we were gansters, Ross would be called “Bottlecap Catrow,” due to his tendency to leave them everywhere; they could be like his calling card. I haven’t zeroed in on a name for myself yet. Send me some ideas, and be sure to think up one for yourself. Anyway, I encourage yourself to get lost on Wikipedia looking at that stuff. It’s fascinating.
***
And finally, here’s a video tribute to the late, great John Hughes. A montage set to Teenage Wasteland. Because sometimes things *are* perfect.
And it actually has nothing to do with my baby or my boobs. I KNOW, RIGHT?
Guys. I love Battlestar Galactica. I LOVE IT SO.
Battlestar, I’m sorry for all the time I spent mocking you while Ross watched you last year. I didn’t know. I was too confused by all the “frakking” and the paper with the corners cut off and the “Oh my gods” and the wearing of what appeared to just be racer-back tank tops put on backwards to see you for what you really are:
THE BEST SHOW EVER.
I don’t care that Starbuck is a terrible actor and that the blonde Cylon has a super annoying whisphery voice.* I DON’T CARE. You are fabulous and I’m so glad to have you in my life.
I feel much better now.
*Please note that Ross and I started from the beginning a few weeks ago. We haven’t watched any new episodes yet. DON’T RUIN THIS FOR ME!
Smallville. Oh, Smallville, I fought you in the beginning, but you were my only form of entertainment for the 2 1/2 weeks we spent waiting for our FiOs hookup. Now you are all I think about.
The color of the baby’s room. It’s called Vintage Orange. People doubted us, but OMG it looks so happy.
Cinnamon toast. No explanation needed.
Our new quiet street. Remember all of those posts about incessant barking? Shooter barely makes a peep all day, what with the lack of constant riffraff outside our door.
That it’s September. That means it’s almost fall, which means it’s almost my birthday, which is just a few weeks before the wee babe makes his/her arrival.
Today our friend Mark came over to look at the baby’s room so he can start planning for the spectacular and wonderful mural he will be painting on the wall.
Here’s a preview of what’s involved:
I. Cannot. Wait.
RVANews has commenced with it’s second annual rebuttal to Richmond Magazine’s Best & Worst list. Or as I like to call it, the “WTF, Richmond Mag?”
Nominations started yesterday and go through the 17th. Go forth and opine.
(I should also note that my good friend The Suze composed this article, and I must say, she was on fire with this one. ON FIRE.)
This facial cleanser. It seems to be only thing keeping my angry, pregnant skin under control.
My new, luxurious diaper bag, graciously given to us by my wonderful mother-in-law. Now I will just stare at it for fourth months until I actually need it.
This blog. It actually makes me excited about moving (if that ever happens).
This short-lived TV show. I now understand what everyone was saying about James Franco this whole time.
This video, particularly the choice of song.
